I can’t run, and I’m not fighting cops.
I know the drill. I raise my hands over my head, then place them behind my helmet, fingers interlocking. I get on my knees and wait.
When the cops interview me, they can get that lab of horror shut down.
I feel a tremor in the ground. Footsteps coming from behind me. From the hospital, from the lab. Killers from the murder-lab!
Blazing pain hits, and the world flashes away. I fight the neural disruptor but fall back into darkness once again.
* * * * *
Part Three: Labyrinth
Chapter 18
In the darkness, I remember.
I remember my life on Terra. Being born in a ring town in the shadow of an arcology…joining the local big, bad gang…joining the Terran military because they were a bigger, badder gang…joining Special Security because they were the biggest, baddest gang…the life of crime that everyone had a finger in…getting my cybernetics pulled…getting smuggled to Luna for a new life…and then sinking back into crime in the pits of Luna.
I remember how they took me.
I’d spent a good night in the pits, fighting and making a stash of cash. My Terran physique gives me an advantage in strength and bone density, but Lunars have better reach and balance. They can still be strong if they work at it; it’s just harder for them. Still, after wiping the blood off my face in the glare of the lights and roar of the crowds, I’d made a good pile.
I had also made a new name for myself. Brandt Wills. That name, that bit of fame, must have been how they found me.
I came to Luna to get away from my name and my past. New opportunities, a new start, all that. Also, to flee a lifetime of bad decisions and mistakes, I’d come to Luna to make new bad decisions and mistakes. Now a name had brought danger to me again.
Had my past caught up to me? The government that had trained me? The Syndicate I later worked for? Someone with a grudge? There were so many that wanted me dead, it could be anyone.
I did what I usually did with fortunes. I blew it. The gambling, the girls, and the life.
Then there was whatever it was I had been drinking that night. Lunar Flux, with a little something extra to make sure I slept.
Imagine their surprise when I woke up halfway to whatever hell they were taking me to. No lightweight cocktail like that can keep me down. I managed to break a couple of bones before they hit me with a neural disruptor.
Then, the long, painful days inside the featureless metal-walled cells. They were soon stained with my blood and vomit. I was coming down off a cocktail of four different drugs. Was it only days or the years it felt like?
So, the good news was it wasn’t one of my past associates with a grudge. If the State of Terra, Special Security, the Antarctic Syndicate, or the Others got me, it would be worse. Much worse. But this wasn’t personal; I was just another piece of meat to work over.
I was to be a lab rat. After all I had gone through, they were surprised I was still alive, so they figured I would make a great test candidate for the “Symbiont.” The Monster.
They figured right.
I lived, somehow. So many others died. My fellow prisoners—test subjects waiting for their turn in cells next to mine. I would see them go past to the test rooms and never come back. Cells would empty, then new occupants would fill them.
Then, I was given a second chance, a new chance at life. All the damage I’d done to my body had been healed. A second chance to make better decisions, to make things right.
And I’d blown it.
I thought, maybe, I’d save some of the people here, do something right for a change. I failed.
* * * * *
Chapter 19
Cold.
How can it be so cold? In Artic Training, the cold would turn to fire, then numbness, and you’d even feel the false warmth of hypothermia setting in. Here, there are no such mercies. The cold is as absolute as the darkness, implacable and unending. If I filled my lungs and arteries with ice-water, it might be this cold. How can I still be alive?
Maybe I’m dead.
I try to breathe. It’s hard. Slowly, with effort, I inhale. A frigid slush washes in my lungs. I try to cough it out, but I can barely exhale it. I’m downing in the stuff.
I try to move, to escape, but my frozen muscles respond slowly. I’m restrained, with my arms tied behind my back and multiple cords tying my legs. I bump up against the sides of a tight enclosure about the size and shape of a coffin.
Just that movement exhausts me. I pause, breathing the stuff, slowly, with effort. There is not much oxygen in it, but enough to keep me alive. Sort of. The cold is almost enough to kill me. But not quite. I can feel the monster move and shift. It’s the only thing keeping me awake; anyone else would be out cold. Even so, I can barely move, barely think. I have no idea how slowly—how much time is passing in the world.
I open my eyes. They stick shut for a moment, then I feel the stinging liquid on them. I see a brief flash of green light before I blink them shut again. I open my eyes again and force them to stay open in the fluid. The hazy, green light begins to resolve into patches of lighter and darker green, then into shapes. Soon, my brain begins to understand what I’m looking at.
A rectangle of green light floats over me in a world of darkness. I can see overhead lights, metallic ceiling panels, and cabling. A sign overhead says “SUBJECT 12” upside down.
I know where I am. I’m in one of those suspension tanks I saw in the basement of the murder-lab. I broke out, so they stuck me in cold storage, with the others. Now, they will leave me here, in the cold, until they are ready to cut me open again. Any minute now.
I struggle to get out, again. The bindings tighten around me and begin to cut. I’m out of breath soon, so soon, my lungs trying to breathe in oxygen slowly, my heart beating slowly and painfully against the freezing cold.
The monster wakes up. Uh-oh. It can help me get out, but it might eat me alive or turn me into some monstrosity. I’ll have to keep it under control.
Warmth spreads throughout my body, and I begin to think again. My heart speeds up some, and I don’t feel the cold and pain anymore. I must be using oxygen more quickly, so I’ll need to move quickly before I use it up. I may have set off an alarm in the life support systems monitoring me. Still, I cannot hurry, or the bindings will tighten more and cut off what little circulation I have. I’m wrapped in smart cord: it will shrink and tighten when it meets resistance.
My hands are tied, back to back, behind my lower back, with me resting on them. I slowly loosen the bindings, working one thread up, while another goes down a bit less. Then reverse. I keep repeating until I have slowly worked one finger free. Slowly and methodically, I repeat the process with each finger until my hands are free.
Now my wrists, I rotate my arms through the smart bindings. They cut and tighten; the threads are already taut against my bones. My blood helps me slip past the bindings. I fold my arms in closer, and my bones bend, becoming flexible. The bones in my wrist slide past each other, and I fold my hands right out of the bindings, first one carefully, then the other.
The bones in my hands slide back together with a series of stomach-turning clicks and snaps. I focus and maneuver the bones in my shoulders and legs in the same way, bending my skeleton while dislocating my joints. Bit by bit, the bindings slide away.
Done. My skeleton pops back into place with a loud series of pops and cracks. I am now free to move about my tiny cell. The sides of the coffin are smooth metal, and I can barely feel the seam where the edges meet. There is no way to wedge anything in there. I push against the lid. I stop fast as bones bend under the pressure. I’m going to have to wait until my skeleton rebuilds itself. I can’t wait too long, spots are starting to dance before my eyes; I’m using up too much oxygen, too quickly, with my exertions.
I continue to feel around the inside of the coffin and find square latches, flush with the metal walls. I push on them and feel a slight give. I
strain against them and feel one snap, then the other. Good, there are no real locks; after all, who’s going to break out of a suspension chamber? The only reason I could wake up was this…thing, this monster, inside me.
I brace my back against the bottom and push upward against the metal lid. Nothing. I strain against it until I’m sure my bones will break or bend. Light flashes behind my eyes as my vision tunnels to a point. I try to suck oxygen into my lungs, but there’s nothing there. Then, the lid gives all at once, flying open with a low rumble.
I sit up, rising out of the gel, back into the air and light. Gel splashes over the edge and spreads across the floor in a green tide. I steam from the cold as mists from the green soup rise into the air.
I try to breathe but only choke and cough. I must breathe, but the gel in my lungs won’t let me. Breathe! I bend over and cough up a jet of the viscous fluid, try to breathe again and only cough up more. I can’t stop. It won’t end. I see stars and sparks, and my blood roars in my ears as I heave, trying to get enough of this vile stuff out of my lungs to catch a breath. Air! Finally, I get a deep breath of air. It’s freezing cold and has a sharp chemical odor, but it’s the sweetest air in the world. I hack up more fluid and finally begin to breathe again.
I step out of my coffin onto the slick floor. I’m covered in green slime, steaming in the cold, but I feel great. I feel like laughing, running a marathon, then getting into the battle of my life afterward. I’m alive, after all, and I shouldn’t be.
I see an indicator on my suspension chamber flashing. It’s letting everyone know my chamber is open and empty. They will be coming soon.
* * * * *
Chapter 20
I’m shaking with cold, and the fluid steams off me, draining away my heat and vitality. I blink through the harsh lighting and see folded towels nearby and medical smocks hanging from a wall. I get out of the slop on the floor, mop myself down with some of the blankets folded nearby, then throw on a medical smock.
I go to the next chamber; time to get people out of here. It is empty. I check the next one, it’s empty as well. I check each of the other suspension chambers. They are empty. They were full earlier; where did they go?
I quickly glide down the cold halls, heading to the room of the frozen dead. The chamber of horrors has new residents. I see the faces of the people from the suspension chambers, what’s left of them. The monster has twisted them into bizarre new shapes. Looks of horror twist the human parts of their faces. Most of them were cut apart.
They killed them. Did they kill them because the police might discover this place? Did they kill them because they had me and didn’t need them anymore? Why? Questions burn through my mind. Why are they dead? I know the real answer, of course. I can’t escape it; the truth is more of a prison than these walls.
They are dead because I ran away. I should have realized they would kill them rather than have witnesses against them. I should have tried to get them out, to rescue them. They might have died; I might have died. But they would have had a chance. I tell myself it would never have worked. I tell myself it is not my hand that is covered in blood. My heart won’t listen. Their deaths would have come later, but they were all executed because I fled. They died because the man who could have saved them saved his own skin instead. I had a second chance, a chance to wash away all of the blood on my hands from my life before. And I blew it. Now, I’m going to carry this forever.
Unless…
Unless I can bring them justice.
I know how this works. Luna isn’t Earth, but they’ll never admit what they’ve done. Some scapegoat will be found, evidence will be buried, and witnesses will be bought off or eliminated. And then they will do it again. And again, and again, and again. They’ll keep torturing and killing people in labs like this until they are stopped or get what they want. I try to think about what men like these would do with the monster.
I have to stop them. Not just here, but wherever they are operating. They won’t stop until I do, and they won’t stop coming for me until I do.
I hear the elevator descending and can feel the vibration through the floor. They are coming. I consider rushing them, killing as many as I can in a red haze before they take me down. And then I will have wasted my life for nothing. I’ll have taken out a few disposable goons, and they will go on like nothing happened.
I’m going to have to escape and find a way to shut the whole thing down. All of it.
I pause to give one last look and a silent promise to the frozen dead. Then I grab a mono-atomic diamond cutting blade from the dissection tray.
Gliding into the disposal room, I find the hatch down sealed. The wheel won’t turn. I’m not too surprised when I cannot force the metal hatch. Every hatch has to hold against depressurization. Even in a pit like this, no one would gamble their lives on a bad hatch.
I hear the elevator stop and the doors open. They are coming this way. Cameras in the walls and the sensors in their helmets will tell them exactly where I am. If I can get into the caves below, I can get rid of one of those.
I cut through the hinges on the hatch with the diamond blade. An alarm flashes; a hatch failure is always an emergency on Luna. I pull up on the hatch. It pops off its seals with a low burp, and the cold, chemical air of the shaft below wafts up.
I hear them coming down the hall as I leap into the darkness below. I have to go down to go up. I have to go into darkness to find the light.
* * * * *
Chapter 21
I leap into the pit. As I fall in the low gravity, I run my hands and feet along the rock walls, pushing from one side to another, slowing my descent. I hit the pool below and go under.
I swim up through the greenish chemicals and breach the surface. I can see a human head silhouetted against the circle of light above. Time to go. I slide out of the pool quickly. The pool explodes behind me. Grenade, most likely. The tall geyser of steam and spray collapses as I glide into the darkness of the caves ahead.
They are shooting to kill now.
I glide deeper into the rough tunnels. Light grows dimmer. Soon, I can barely see the rock walls around me. I look back. I can see the light from the tunnel reflected upon the pool. They have not come down yet. They’re cautious; they won’t just rush in. I turn around a bend in the tunnel, and light is lost to absolute darkness.
The darkness means little to me anymore. I can hear them talking as their voices echo off the rock. They are going to send remotes down first. They have also decided to kill me rather than capture me. They figure the docs can study whatever they scrape off the rock walls. That makes my choices simple. I figured I’d have to take out this team anyway.
The remotes are on the way. I can hear the faint whine of micro-turbines. They will be using the sensors on the remotes and their armor, counting on the darkness blinding me. Their sensors against my monster. I wonder which will win.
Everything becomes a kind of gray, blurry haze as my eyes adapt to the deep darkness. I can see the tunnel from sound echoes as I glide down the dark paths. I’m also aware of the remotes spreading out in a search pattern in the tunnel complex.
I’ll never outrun them. I need to hide, but I glow in infra-red. One of the remotes is closing, fast.
I back up against a rock wall, and force the monster to hide me. It’s hard; it wants to fight, but I need to hide first. I feel the numbing cold return as my temperature drops, hiding my heat. I feel the monster come alive, feel it spread through my body and erupt out of my skin. Fibers spread over my skin, covering me completely in fibrous camouflage. They harden, fusing me to the wall, leaving me unable to move. I can’t see, and I can barely breathe. If the remotes find me here, I’m dead.
The remote screams by. I can’t see through the fibers, but it sounds like an LB-24, basically a silver cigar equipped with a small laser.
I can hear the remote hover nearby. Can it see me? It pauses and then circles the area. Somehow, the fibers hide me. It can’t see me, but it know
s something is wrong. It drops on the floor to deposit a sensor package and continues on. Likely it signaled the men upstairs about an anomaly. They’ll come and check it out.
The instant I move, the camera will see me. So I wait. I listen to the sounds of the drones moving and water running in the caves. These caves are not as lifeless as I thought; a spider crawls across my face. I’m as still as stone.
Soon, the drones have completed their search pattern and dropped sensors all over the place. I can hear them through the rock, so now I have a mental map of the caves stretching out down here. I wait.
They send the recall, and the drones whine past on the way up. They lower ropes and rappel down the shaft. They pause by the pool, scanning the tunnels and blasting sensor pulses of sound, and likely radar and other scans as well. I wait.
They move carefully down the tunnels. I can feel their every movement through the rock, hear their every word. These men know what they are doing: staying in pairs, staying in constant communication, and checking corners carefully. I wait.
One pair comes up next to me. They pause. One of them has bad breath. I can feel the tension; they know something is wrong. They could shoot me any instant. I wait.
“Let’s make sure.” I hear a deep voice and a switch clicks.
Heat and fire fill the tunnel. I can see red light through the fibers. Roaring fire sucks all the air away, and the fibers seal my nose before I inhale flame. The fibers protect me from the liquid flame that covers everything. I can feel the heat slowly begin to burn through.
It’s time.
* * * * *
Chapter 22
Warrior- Integration Page 5